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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334228">fragments</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas'>givebackmylifecas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>fillers &amp; ficlets [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Ficlet Collection, First Kiss, Fluff, Innuendo, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:35:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>a place to collect my various berlermo ficlets / one shots / prompts</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>fillers &amp; ficlets [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995799</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. physical affection prompt: playfully biting someone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>these are all stand alone</p><p>TWs: nothing major but I'm going to say generally for swearing, references to canon-typical violence, and implied sexual content</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="answer">
  <p>“Do you two have to do that?” Tokyo demands, wrinkling her nose.</p>
  <p>“Do what?” Martín mumbles around the grape Andrés has just fed him.</p>
  <p>Tokyo gags. “That! Can’t you put food in your own mouth? Why is Berlin doing it for you?”</p>
  <p>Andrés fixes her with a stony glare, running his hand through Martín’s hair. “Tokyo, just because you and Rio are in a hormone fuelled relationship of convenience and can’t understand the nuances and passion of a fulfilling relationship, doesn’t mean no one else can.”</p>
  <p>“What the fuck are you talking about?” she exclaims. “You’re not being passionate and nuanced, Palermo is just lying with his head in your lap and you’re feeding him fruit that he could reach out and get himself.”</p>
  <p>Andrés’ caresses Martín’s jaw and he smiles at her. “That’s exactly my point, Tokyo. You don’t understand.”</p>
  <p>He moves his hand further up Martín’s face and frowns when Martín nips at his thumb.</p>
  <p>“What was that for?” he asks with a smirk.</p>
  <p>“You stopped giving me grapes,” Martín says with a pout.</p>
  <p>Andrés pulls another grape out of the bowl and put it in Martín’s mouth, grinning at him when Tokyo swears and storms out of the room.</p>
  <p>“You’re evil,” Andrés tells him fondly.</p>
  <p>Martín smiles back at him. “And you’ve stopped feeding me again.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. physical affection prompts: back hugs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are they doing?”</p><p>“What is who doing?”</p><p>“Your brother and his… boyfriend?” Raquel asks.</p><p>Sergio sighs, looking up from his paper, unsure what to prepare himself for seeing. Honestly, there’s no way he could have prepared himself. Andrés is seated across the patio, on a stool in front of his easel, with Martín on a chair behind him, forehead pressed between Andrés’ shoulder blades, arms wrapped around his waist.</p><p>“I… have no idea,” he admits to Raquel.</p><p>She laughs, shaking her head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Martín is asleep.”</p><p>“He is,” Andrés says without looking at either of them - Raquel hadn’t even realised he could hear her.</p><p>“How can he sleep like that?” Sergio asks.</p><p>“More importantly, how can you paint like that?” Raquel asks, gesturing to Martín’s arms which are encircling Andrés and considerably restricting his movements.</p><p>Andrés shrugs, careful not to dislodge Martín as he looks over at them. “Practice.”</p><p>“Who are you answering right now?” Raquel asks, narrowing her eyes.</p><p>“Both of you,” he replies with a smirk. “Now, can I get back to my painting?”</p><p>He turns away without waiting for an answer and Raquel exchanges a look with Sergio.</p><p>“Are they always like this?” she questions.</p><p>Sergio lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Always.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. physical affection prompts: wiping away someone's tears</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” Martín declares entirely unsympathetically. “And that includes when you kissed me and then tried to leave me in the monastery.”</p><p>“Martín, querido, do you really have to bring that up so much?” Andrés groans.</p><p>Martín nods. “I do. Because it was really fucking stupid. Not as stupid as this, I’ll grant you. But it’s close.”</p><p>Andrés sighs, readjusting the milk-soaked paper towel on his eye. “I wasn’t thinking.”</p><p>“Clearly. Why else would you chop up jalapeños and then rub your eye without washing your fucking hands?” Martín asks. “You’re just lucky I bought more milk today.”</p><p>“Like we’d ever run out of milk,” Andrés mutters. “I think it’s luckier that I only rubbed one eye.”</p><p>“Small mercies. Now, let me see - is it feeling any better?”</p><p>He removes the paper towel and looks at Andrés’ reddened eye, which is still streaming, sending tears rolling down his cheek. Martín wipes them away with a tissue, then soaks a fresh paper towel in cold milk and places it on Andrés’ eye.</p><p>“It still needs a bit longer,” he says and though he still sounds unconcerned, his hand is gentle as it cups the side of Andrés’ face that isn’t currently on fire.</p><p>“I should’ve married someone who doesn’t insist on having nachos with every Saturday film night,” Andrés grumbles, the way he leans into Martín’s hand belying his anger.</p><p>Martín laughs. “You should’ve. Or maybe I should’ve married someone who doesn’t touch their eyes right after slicing peppers.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. physical affection prompts: back hugs (again)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You have got to stop doing that,” Martín complains, looking down at the mess of broken egg and shell on the kitchen counter.</p><p>“Doing what?” Andrés asks, his chin hooked over Martín’s shoulder, arms firmly wrapped around his waist.</p><p>Martín frowns. “That. Sneaking up on me and acting like fucking cloak. Especially when I’m cooking. You’ve ruined breakfast and all because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself for five more minutes.”</p><p>Andrés laughs, his breath tickling Martín’s ear. Martín shivers and he doesn’t need to see Andrés’ face to know he’s smirking.</p><p>“Do you want me to keep my hands to myself though?”</p><p>He demonstratively rubs a hand over Martín’s chest, moving across his stomach until his fingers are curved around his hip. Martín sighs, letting his head fall back against Andrés’ shoulder.</p><p>“No,” he admits.</p><p>“Thought so,” Andrés says smugly, patting Martín’s belly. “But it’s a shame about breakfast. Want to go out for food instead?”</p><p>“Why not. But you’ll have to let go long enough for me to get dressed mi amor.”</p><p>Andrés snorts. “I’m sure I can manage that.”</p><p>“You say that, but you still haven’t let go of me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. physical affection prompts: accidentally knocking your head into someone’s chin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martín snores loudly and Tokyo rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Well, I’m not waking him,” she announces, putting the tip of her finger on her nose.</p><p>The others quickly follow suit and Andrés glares at them.</p><p>“You’re all children,” he says, stepping around Tokyo and Stockholm to stand next to the table Martín is sleeping on.</p><p>“Martín,” he says, gently shaking the other man’s shoulder. “Wake up. You can’t sleep here, the bartender is throwing us a very unimpressed look and I don’t want to have to give him an extra tip.”</p><p>Martín continues to snore and Andrés shakes him again, leaning over his prone body so he can lightly tap his cheek.</p><p>“Martín!” he shouts. “Wake up.”</p><p>That seems to do the trick. Martín startles awake, but he sits up faster than Andrés can pull away. His forehead collides with Andrés’ chin with a loud crunch and they both go reeling back.</p><p>Andrés covers his mouth with his hand and it comes away bloodied.</p><p>“Martín, you split my lip,” he complains, but receives no sympathy in return.</p><p>“Yeah well, you bashed against my fucking head with your chin,” Martín retorts. “I think I might have a concussion, everything’s spinning.”</p><p>Stockholm laughs. “You don’t have a concussion, you’re just drunk.”</p><p>“Oh,” Martín says. “Then I suppose that’s okay.”</p><p>Andrés scowls. “I’m not.”</p><p>Still on the table, Martín just about manages to reach out and cradle Andrés’ face without falling over. “Want me to kiss it better?”</p><p>“No, who knows what damage you’ll do,” Andrés complains and Martín pouts. “But I suppose you can make it up to me tomorrow.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. physical affection prompts: smiling into a kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I hate this,” Martín complains, face twisting into an unflattering scowl.</p><p>Andrés sighs. “It’s not that bad.”</p><p>“You’re right,” Martín nods. “It’s worse. This is dumb, we look stupid and if Tokyo yells at me one more time, I’m going to stab her.”</p><p>“Mi amor, please don’t stab anyone on our wedding day.”</p><p>“Hey, you two! Enough talking, more kissing. Or you’re not going to have any nice pictures!” Tokyo yells from across the lawn, where she’s stood holding a camera.</p><p>“That’s it,” Martín growls, but Andrés wraps an arm around him before he can get very far.</p><p>He struggles briefly, but lets Andrés manhandle him into turning away from Tokyo and looking at his new husband instead. Andrés puts a hand on either side of Martín’s face, so he’s forced to look up into his eyes.</p><p>“No murder until after the honeymoon,” he says seriously. “We can’t exactly go on a luxury cruise if you’re in prison for killing Tokyo.”</p><p>Martín sighs. “But she’s so annoying.”</p><p>Andrés smiles sympathetically at his pout. “I know. How about once the pictures are taken and she’s put the camera down, we find away to ‘accidentally’ push her into the fountain?”</p><p>Martín grins and Andrés repositions him to Tokyo’s satisfaction, before leaning in to kiss him.</p><p>“I knew I married you for a reason,” Martín says, still smirking and Andrés kisses the smile right off his face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. physical affection prompts: chasing someone’s lips after they pull away & play wrestling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Give it back, now!” Andrés demands and curses inwardly when neither Denver nor Tokyo flinch.</p><p>Somehow between the mint and now, they’d lost their fear of him and it made times like these very annoying.</p><p>“That lighter was very expensive and is very precious to me, and you are both going to regret it very much if you don’t put it down right now,” he threatens.</p><p>“Are we?” Tokyo asks with a grin, before throwing the lighter over to Denver, who thankfully catches it.</p><p>Good, Andrés thinks, Denver will be easier to intimidate than Tokyo.</p><p>He stalks towards him and he can almost see Denver’s resolve crumble. Except then he sees something over Andrés’ shoulder and grins.</p><p>“Palermo, catch!” Denver yells and the lighter goes sailing over Andrés’ head.</p><p>By the time he turns around, Andrés can no longer see the lighter, but Martín has a certain smugness about him that has Andrés’ eyes narrowing in suspicion.</p><p>“Where is it?”</p><p>Martín shrugs. “Where is what?”</p><p>“That’s enough, give me my fucking lighter!”</p><p>“Or what?” Martín asks with a smirk.</p><p>Andrés pounces before Martín can say anything else, knocking him back onto the sofa and climbing on top of him, hands curled on his shoulders.</p><p>“Get off!” Martín protests, struggling against Andrés’ weight.</p><p>Andrés shakes his head. “No, give me the lighter.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Then I won’t get off you.”</p><p>Martín swears at him, trying to move his legs so he can knee him in the stomach. Andrés settles his weight more heavily on Martín’s thighs and starts patting him down, ignoring how he squirms.</p><p>“Andrés please, you know how ticklish I am.”</p><p>“Exactly,” Andrés says triumphantly, fingers inching under Martín’s shirt and tracing over his hips.</p><p>“No, please,” Martín begs and Andrés grins.</p><p>“Tell me where my lighter is.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Andrés grins wickedly, but before he can resume his tickling, Martín wraps a hand around the back of his neck and drags him into a kiss. It’s not that Andrés is surprised, he just thought Martín would hold out for longer before resorting to dirty tactics.</p><p>He keeps his hands under Martín’s shirt - for different reasons now - and groans when Martín nips at his bottom lip. By the time they break apart, startled by the sound of the door shutting, Andrés has mostly forgotten why they started this. He follows when Martín pulls away, kissing him twice more before he manages to drag himself away from him.</p><p>“Huh?” he asks bemusedly, when Martín laughs at him. “Why are you laughing?”</p><p>Martín shakes his head. “No reason. Do you want your lighter back?”</p><p>“Eh, it’s not that important.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. physical affection prompts: peppering their face in kisses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot,” Martín yells. “Who showers when they’re that drunk? You fell asleep standing up.”</p><p>Andrés groans. “My head hurts.”</p><p>Martín scowls at him, from where he’s hovering just above Andrés’ face. “That’s because you and your idiot brother drank all the wine in the house - and I do mean all of it.”</p><p>“Cariño,” Andrés mumbles. “Can you yell after I sleep?”</p><p>“Should’ve left you in the fucking shower,” is the response he receives, but Martín slides into bed next to him anyway.</p><p>There’s a rustling noise as Martín repositions himself and Andrés closes his eyes against the nausea the mattress dipping causes. He sighs when a kiss is pressed to his forehead, then each of his cheeks, then his nose and chin, before finally Martín kisses him briefly on the mouth.</p><p>“You’re a fucking idiot,” Martín mumbles against his neck. “And I’m going to yell at you so much later.”</p><p>Andrés smiles and curls an arm around him, already too sleepy to respond.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. physical affection prompts: the biggest, warmest hugs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing is, Berlin was never a hugger. They all know that, it’s just how he is. The closest Nairobi ever came was when she wrapped her arms around him to drag his sorry ass out of the mint.</p><p>So when they all finally get off the boat that had been their temporary home for the last two weeks and step out onto blisteringly hot - and non-extraditable - soil, the last thing she’s expecting is for a man to suddenly yell “Andrés” and then fight his way to the crowded docks, only for Berlin to take off running and gather the man up in a huge hug.</p><p>Nairobi’s jaw drops as the two men clutch at each other, oblivious to the sun beating down on them and the stares from the crowd around them.</p><p>“Who the fuck is that?” Tokyo asks, beating Nairobi to the punch.</p><p>The Professor, who had been busy arguing with a customs officer until he handed him a huge wad of bank notes, looks over at where Berlin is still wrapped around the stranger in the biggest hug Nairobi has ever seen and rolls his eyes.</p><p>“That’s his husband.”</p><p>The gang erupts into loud shouts of confusion and questions and the Professor ignores them all, looking over at Berlin and his husband a little wistfully. Still oblivious to the commotion he’s causing, Berlin holds his… husband at arms length, looking him up and down, before pulling him into another hug.</p><p>“Professor…” Nairobi starts, but he shakes his head.</p><p>“No. Direct your questions at Berlin, not me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. physical affection prompts: a hug that some might consider as ~too long~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Andrés enters the chapel at a half run - certainly faster than Sergio has seen him move in a while. He hurries in after his brother and finds Martín waiting for them in front of his blackboard.</p><p>“Martín? What’s going on, you called and said it was important,” Andrés says, an edge of agitation in his voice that no one outside of the people standing in this room would be able to hear.</p><p>Martín grins widely. “I’ve done it, I’ve figured out how to get the gold out. All ninety tonnes of it.”</p><p>“You’ve done it?” Andrés asks, a little stunned.</p><p>“I’ve done it!”</p><p>“You’ve done it!”</p><p>Martín throws himself into Andrés’ arms with little trepidation and Sergio’s eyebrows shoot sky-high as his brother returns the hug tightly. Martín’s arms wind around Andrés’ neck and Sergio momentarily wonders how he can breathe until he sees that Andrés’ grip on Martín’s waist is equally as tight.</p><p>The two of them just hold each other… and keep holding each other. Martín’s face has tucked itself into Andrés’ neck and Andrés’ hands on his back are curled just a little too tightly into the fabric of his shirt.</p><p>Sergio clears his throat uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like maybe he shouldn’t be witnessing this. He coughs again, louder, when neither Martín nor Andrés look like they’re going to move and is ignored once again.</p><p>Eventually he sighs and leaves them to it - it’s none of his business really.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. physical affection prompts: kissing someone’s cuts/bruises/scratches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re being ridiculous, they’re not that bad!” Martín insists, batting at Andrés’ hands as he tries to wipe the disinfectant soaked cloth across Martín’s face.</p><p>Andrés raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m the ridiculous one? Did i try and bathe a feral cat?”</p><p>“He’s not feral!”</p><p>“It nearly took your eye out, Martín!”</p><p>Martín scowls and winces when it pulls at the scratches under his right eye. “He was just scared, Andrés. He’s fine now, isn’t he?”</p><p>They both look over at the damp cat lying on the sofa, curled up and looking like butter wouldn’t melt in its mouth.</p><p>“Well I’m not stitching you up if it decides to attack you in the middle of the night,” Andrés insists and Martín grins.</p><p>“Yes you will.”</p><p>He doesn’t get a reply,  but Andrés’ sigh is answer enough. Martín reels him into a hug and Andrés puts the cloth down to return it. When he pulls away, he presses a kiss to the worst of the claw marks.</p><p>Martín wrinkles his nose. “That’s unhygienic Andrés, do you know how many germs are in your mouth?”</p><p>Andrés grins and suddenly the cloth is back in his hand. “Less than are in a cat’s claw. Now hold still.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. christmas prompt: “You look even more beautiful covered in snow.” & “I can’t believe you’re making snow angels at a time like this!”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everyone watches in horror as the oven is doused in white powder from the fire extinguisher.</p><p>“Well, there goes dinner,” Denver says morosely.</p><p>Rio looks on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened. I looked away for one minute and the whole thing was in flames.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Stockholm consoles him. “We can order food. We don’t have to have home cooked stuff today.”</p><p>Tokyo opens the back door to let some of the smoke out. “Hey, it’s really nice out. Why don’t we go and walk in the snow for a bit?”</p><p>At a loss for anything better to do, everyone bundles up and heads into the garden, where the snow is lying in soft drifts about a foot high. It takes about thirty seconds before Nairobi has knocked Denver off his feet and is trying to shove snow down his front.</p><p>The others soon join in and only a few minutes later chaos is reigning.</p><p>“I can’t believe they’re making snow angels at a time like this! We haven’t even got dinner,” Martín gripes, watching Tokyo wave her arms and legs back and forth.</p><p>“Have some Christmas spirit, Martín, the food will be here soon!” Raquel chastises, with a laugh.</p><p>“Hey, Palermo,” Denver says, his smile mischievous. “Do us a favour and go throw some snow at Berlin?”</p><p>Martín looks over at Andrés who is leaning against the fence with Sergio, staying well away from the gang’s antics.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Denver grins. “Because you’re the only one he won’t kill.”</p><p>Martín looks between Andrés and Denver a couple of times before nodding. “Fine, but only because I’m bored and hungry.”</p><p>He gathers some snow and scuttles over to Andrés, who smiles at him when he sees him approaching.</p><p>“Hey, Andrés,” he says softly. “You’d look so much more beautiful covered in snow, mi amor.”</p><p>Andrés gets out a startled ‘what?’ before Martín dumps an armful of snow on him. He laughs as he watches him sputter.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says, but Andrés has already knocked him off his feet.</p><p>Andrés kisses him just once and then he’s shoving snow down the front of Martín’s coat.</p><p>“You’re an asshole,” Martín tells him and Andrés grins.</p><p>“So are you, cariño.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. christmas prompt: “…well, there are worse ways my Christmas could’ve ended.”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martín surveys the wreckage of their living room. There’s wrapping paper and ribbons everywhere, empty glasses littering every flat surface and four different people are draped on one sofa.</p><p>He laughs to himself as he tries to figure out just how Rio, Tokyo, Denver, and Helsinki all managed to fit on there together. At least the others had gone home.</p><p>“Martín?” Andrés’ soft voice calls from the hallway.</p><p>He’s already changed into pyjamas, robe wrapped around himself. Martín smiles at him and goes into his arms as if pulled by a magnet.</p><p>“Come to bed mi amor,” Andrés says quietly, voice barely more than a whisper. “We can sort out the mess tomorrow.”</p><p>Martín grins. “Or we can trick the boys into doing it.”</p><p>Andrés shudders. “Please, I’m not letting Denver and Rio near my glassware.”</p><p>He rearranges them so he has an arm around Martín’s waist and can lead him towards the bedroom.</p><p>“Have you had a good Christmas then?” he asks when they’re wrapped around each other under the covers.</p><p>Martín thinks of his childhood celebrations, of his cold mother and drunken father, the presents that ended up smashed in the bin because he ‘didn’t deserve them’.</p><p>“There’s certainly worse ways my Christmas could have ended,” he admits and Andrés squeezes him a little tighter. “Although I could do without all the washing up and the drunken louts on the sofa.”</p><p>“Couldn’t we all,” Andrés says wryly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. christmas prompt: “Excuse me—where is my Christmas kiss?”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Who the hell brought mistletoe?” Nairobi asks, watching Tokyo drag Rio into a messy kiss.</p><p>Andrés shrugs. “Let the kids have their fun.”</p><p>“You say that now,” Raquel says. “But your boyfriend is about to step under that mistletoe.”</p><p>Andrés looks across the garden to see Martín indeed walking towards the mistletoe with Helsinki of all people. Tokyo says something to them and Helsinki flushes, looking up at the plant dangling above their heads.</p><p>Martín laughs and presses a kiss to Helsinki’s cheek and is then pounced on by a drunk Rio who kisses his forehead. Nairobi catcalls them and Andrés scowls at her.</p><p>“Martín!” he yells, getting to his feet.</p><p>Martín turns, cheeks pink and grins at him. “Jealous?”</p><p>“No,” Andrés says. “Just wondering where my Christmas kiss is.”</p><p>Martín stalks towards him, grin stretched so wide that Andrés can see his chipped tooth. Andrés sits down about thirty seconds before Martín lands in his lap. Martín kisses him, one hand in his hair, and Andrés wraps his arms around Martín’s waist.</p><p>“Better?” Martín asks when Andrés has been left breathless, looking up at him.</p><p>“For now.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. christmas prompt: “You didn’t have to get me anything.”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, Andrés? Do you have a minute?”</p><p>Andrés smiles at Tatiana, who is perched in front of the fireplace talking to Sergio, and excuses himself from the conversation. Martín is hovering at the entrance to the chapel, eyes unusually nervous.</p><p>“There you are,” Andrés says. “I was wondering where you got to.”</p><p>Martín shifts, moving further out into the hallway and Andrés follows, curious.</p><p>“What’s going on?” he asks.</p><p>“I uh, I got you something,” Martín says quietly. “For Christmas.”</p><p>Andrés smiled, bemused. “Martín, you didn’t have to get me anything.”</p><p>Martín shrugs, turning and picking up a package wrapped in plain brown paper from where it’s leaning against the wall. He hands it to Andrés, who unwraps it carefully.</p><p>The hallway is dimly lit, but the colours in the painting are bright.</p><p>“Martín,” Andrés says carefully. “This is… is it -”</p><p>“From that painter we saw in Bordeaux?” Martín asks, sounding uncertain. “Yeah.”</p><p>Andrés stares at the painting and Martín shifts uncomfortably. “If you don’t like it, i can -”</p><p>“No,” Andrés interrupts. “I love it. Thank you.”</p><p>He puts down the painting and reels Martín in for a hug, feeling the other man first tense, then relax in his arms.</p><p>“You’re welcome.” Martín’s voice is muffled against the thick wool of Andrés’ jumper.</p><p>“Andrés!” Tatiana calls from inside the chapel. “What are you two doing? We want to open the wine.”</p><p>Andrés pulls away and smiles at Martín. “Duty calls - will you come in for a glass.”</p><p>“Yes, in a moment.” Martín is blinking hard and in the half-darkness, his eyes look glassy.</p><p>“Okay, see you in there,” Andrés says and goes to rejoin his family.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. christmas prompt: “I don’t mind that you didn’t get me a present because you are my present.”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Martín?” Sergio’s voice in his doorway makes him groan.</p><p>“What do you want?” Martín asks, arm thrown over his eyes.</p><p>Sergio sighs and comes over to him. “I came to get you for dinner. You can’t mope here just because Andrés isn’t come back for Christmas.”</p><p>Martín lifts his arm long enough to glare at Sergio. “I’m not moping. I don’t care that your brother found some beautiful Russian woman to spend the holidays with.”</p><p>“Raquel wants you to come down,” Sergio insists. “Please.”</p><p>“Fine,” Martín relents. “But I’m not getting changed.”</p><p>Sergio eyes Martín’s jumper and sweatpants, but doesn’t say anything.</p><p>Martín follows him downstairs, dragging his feet in the hallway. He can hear Raquel singing some terrible Christmas themed pop song in the kitchen and her scowls, thinking about having to be around her and Sergio and their happiness.</p><p>“Do I really need to be here?” he asks.</p><p>“Yes,” Sergio says curtly and Martín raises his eyebrows at the sharp tone.</p><p>“Alright, alright.”</p><p>He steps into the kitchen, doing his best to avoid looking at the ridiculous amounts of mistletoe and garlands that Raquel has strung everywhere.</p><p>“Martín?”</p><p>His head snaps up and he spins on his heel to see Andrés sat at the table.</p><p>“Andrés,” he says incredulously. “What are you doing here? What happened to the Russian?”</p><p>Andrés smirks, getting to his feet. “Well, it was made clear to me that there were more important things waiting for me here.”</p><p>Martín squints at him. “Like Sergio?”</p><p>“Not like Sergio,” Andrés says with a laugh.</p><p>“Then what -”</p><p>“You, Martín.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Martín sniffs. “Well, I didn’t get you a present, since i thought you’d be away.”</p><p>“That’s okay,” Andrés says. “You can be my present.”</p><p>“Are you serious?” Martín asks.</p><p>Andrés rolls his eyes. “Yes.”</p><p>Then he grabs Martín by the back of the neck and drags him into a kiss.</p><p>“Fuck,” Martín says when he’s let go of. “Merry Christmas.”</p><p>“Merry Christmas,” Andrés smirks.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. christmas prompt: “Go on, open it.”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’ve been at the bar for nearly three hours now,. Sergio has stepped away to use the bathroom, leaving Martín alone at the table with Andrés. It isn’t the first Christmas they’ve spent together, but it’s the first one since the eighteen months they spent apart - Andrés busy with his new wife, Martín busy with his postgraduate degree and whomever he could coax into his bed for the night.</p><p>“I have something for you,” Andrés says, making Martín look up from his whiskey.</p><p>“Let me guess, the cheque,” he jokes weakly and Andrés’ lips twitch into half a smile.</p><p>It used to be easier, more carefree the way they teased each other. Martín wants that back.</p><p>Across from him, Andrés shakes his head and produces a small, square gift from somewhere which he places on the table. It’s beautifully wrapped in dark blue paper and tied with a silver bow.</p><p>Martín looks at Andrés. “This is for me?”</p><p>“Yes,” Andrés says, smiling in earnest now. “Don’t just look at me incredulously, go on, open it.”</p><p>Martín reaches for the gift, sliding it across the slightly sticky table. He tugs at the ends of the ribbon, rolling it up and putting it in his pocket when it unravels and comes loose.</p><p>“Feel free to rip the paper,” Andrés says, amusement clear in the set of his mouth.</p><p>Martín does as he’s told and tears off the paper in one go. Underneath is a leather box and at Andrés’ encouraging nod, he flips it open. He can’t quite stifle the gasp that escapes his lips.</p><p>“Andrés, this is too much,” he says, staring at the watch.</p><p>It has a brown leather strap, still in good condition despite its age. The cream watch-face has numbers painted on it in gold filigree, just above the makers name.</p><p>Andrés shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Can anything really be too much for one’s dearest friend?”</p><p>Martín swallows the lump in his throat and smiles, reaching for Andrés’ hand. The other man squeezes his fingers.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, Martín.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Martín rasps. “Merry Christmas, Andrés.”</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. christmas prompt: “I can’t believe I just missed my flight.”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Andrés scowls up at the departure board, particularly at the nine o’clock flight to Madrid that has just been adjusted to show it departed, on schedule, without him.</p><p>“God damn it,” he swears and pulls his phone out of his pocket.</p><p>“Sergio?” he asks, when his brother picks up. “It’s me. I have some bad news, the traffic was horrendous and I made it to the airport too late, so I’ve missed my flight.”</p><p>On the other end of the line, his brother sighs. “I told you not to get on such a last minute flight.”</p><p>“I can get another tomorrow evening,” Andrés promises.</p><p>“Alright, I’ll see you then,” Sergio says and Andrés can hear Raquel in the background.</p><p>“At least you won’t be alone,” he says and Sergio laughs. “Merry Christmas, hermanito.”</p><p>-</p><p>Getting a cab away from the airport takes forever, and it takes even longer to work their way through the city.</p><p>It’s late by the time Andrés has paid the driver and dragged himself up the stairs of the dark apartment building. He knocks at Apartment 23 and doesn’t receive an answer. He sighs and knocks again, louder this time. There’s noise from behind the door, the sound of a glass bottle being knocked over and then footsteps. The door swings open.</p><p>“I missed my flight,” Andrés says apologetically, but Martín is already pulling him into a hug.</p><p>“Told you, you left too late,” he mumbles into Andrés’ neck.</p><p>Andrés laughs. “It’s not my fault no one here knows how to drive.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Martín says and kisses him.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. christmas prompt: “Merry Christmas, motherfuckers!”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everyone is drunk by the time Andrés and Martín manage to drag themselves out of their cozy house and to the party in Denver and Stockholm’s garden.</p><p>Nairobi and Rio immediately pounce on the bag of presents Andrés is holding, and he easily surrenders them, letting the gang hand out the gifts themselves.</p><p>Denver, face flushed from whatever he’s been drinking, comes bouncing over to them and plants a wet kiss on both of their cheeks.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, motherfuckers!” he yells, before running off again.</p><p>Martín throws Andrés an amused glance, holding still so the other man can wipe his cheek with a handkerchief. Denver is now being scolded by both Raquel and Stockholm for his language, while Helsinki and Bogota watch and jeer.</p><p>Andrés lets Martín take his hand and drag him closer to the festivities.</p><p>“Come on, cariño,” he says. “Don’t be a grinch.”</p><p>“I don’t know what that is,” Andrés says haughtily.</p><p>Martín laughs and kisses him.</p><p>“That’s a lie,” Martín says when he’s pulled away. “We watched the film last week.”</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. christmas prompt: “I can’t believe you did that to Santa…”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martín and Andrés are waiting with Sergio and Denver when Stockholm and Raquel return with the kids, looking upset.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Denver asks.</p><p>Stockholm scowls. “Apparently, Father Christmas is too tired to see any more kids.”</p><p>“What?” Martín demands. “They’re supposed to be seeing people for another fifteen minutes.”</p><p>“I know,” Raquel says. “We’ll just have to come back tomorrow.”</p><p>Everyone groans at the thought of having to return to the shopping centre again. Martín shakes his head.</p><p>“Nope, I’m not doing this again. Stay here, I’ll go talk to that bearded, capitalist pig!” he announces while Stockholm tries to cover the children’s ears.</p><p>“What’s he going to do?” Raquel asks, watching Martín storm towards Santa’s grotto.</p><p>Denver grins. “By the looks of him, either stab Santa or fu- uh, hug him.”</p><p>Andrés scowls and Stockholm raises her eyebrows challengingly.</p><p>“What? I thought there was nothing going on with you two?” she asks him.</p><p>“There isn’t,” he replies stiffly.</p><p>Beside him, Sergio makes a strange coughing sound. They wait for five minutes, then another ten.</p><p>Sergio looks at his watch. “Well, now they really aren’t going to be seeing any more children.”</p><p>Just then, Martín comes striding up to them, his hair in complete disarray, a smug smile on his face.</p><p>“Come on then, let’s go see Santa!” he says and Paula cheers, taking Cinci by the hand and leading him towards the grotto.</p><p>Through the doorway, they can see ‘Santa’ sat on a big chair, with his beard slightly askew. The floor is coated in fake snow and glitter and Denver can see the same glitter on the knees of Martín’s dark jeans.</p><p>“I can’t believe you did that to Santa,” Stockholm says, eyes wide.</p><p>Martín shrugs. “Did you want Cinci to see him or not?”</p><p>Stockholm just nods and lets Raquel lead her over to the grotto and take pictures of the children. Denver looks back over at Martín, only to find he’s disappeared. He frowns at Sergio, who rolls his eyes and points behind him.</p><p>Denver turns and sees Andrés has backed Martín against a giant candy-cane and is kissing the living daylights out of him.</p><p>“About time,” he mutters and Sergio nods, pointedly not looking at his brother and Martín.</p><p>“It’s a fucking Christmas miracle.”</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. christmas prompt: fluffy socks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>aleks stop being sad when i have uni work challenge</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Who gets sick on Christmas?” Andrés grumbles, then wrinkles his nose and sneezes right into the tissue Martín shoves in front of him.</p><p>Martín makes a gagging noise and goes to wash his hands. “You apparently.” He returns and tucks Andrés’ blanket more tightly around him before sitting next to him. “Personally, I blame it on your inability to wear the scarf I got you.”</p><p>“It itches,” Andrés complains.</p><p>Martín shoves a mug of tea into his hands and scowls. “It’s cashmere, it can’t possibly itch - this is about that woman telling you your neck is your best feature, isn’t it?”</p><p>There’s guilty silence from Andrés who takes a sip of the scalding tea.</p><p>“That’s what I thought,” Martín mutters. “Now, you have tea, you have blankets, you have enough tissues to wipe every single one of your brother’s band of snivelling idiots’ noses - what else do you need?”</p><p>“My feet are cold,” Andrés complains.</p><p>Martín scowls, but he goes and fetches him a pair of fluffy socks that Raquel had gifted him as a joke last year. They’re bright red with little snow flakes on them and Andrés eyes them with displeasure. Martín lifts his feet up and onto his lap and starts pulling the socks on. Andrés wiggles his toes just to make it harder and Martín pinches his ankle.</p><p>“Behave or I’ll put Vicks on them before the socks go on.”</p><p>Andrés groans. “I hate that stuff - especially on my feet!”</p><p>Martín shrugs, finishing with the socks and keeping one hand wrapped around Andrés’ ankle. “I don’t care, it works.”</p><p>He leans forward and grabs the tub of vaporub off the coffee table. Andrés scowls but obediently lets Martín rub the pungent ointment into his chest, although he sniffles pointedly the entire time. When Martín is done and has once again returned from washing his hands, Andrés shuffles sideways and puts his head on Martín’s chest.</p><p>“Ugh, get off me, I don’t want your cold,” Martín bitches.</p><p>Andrés gives a very congested sigh. “But you’re warm - and I’m sick, you have to be nice to me.”</p><p>“I’m fairly sure I don’t have to,” Martín insists, but he wraps an arm around Andrés’ shoulders anyway.</p><p>“Merry Christmas,” Andrés mumbles into his jumper.</p><p>“Merry Christmas,” Martín replies.</p><p>Andrés frowns. “No kiss?”</p><p>“Nope, you’re disgusting,” Martín shrugs. “You’re horrible and snotty, and while I love you dearly and will look after you until you’re better, I draw the line at kissing you and catching your cold.”</p><p>“Bastard,” Andrés complains, but he’s too tired to sound anything more than lacklustre.</p><p>Martín rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to the top of his slightly sweaty head. Andrés smiles smugly and reaches for another tissue. Martín groans as he blows his nose loudly. He tries to not smile too fondly when not long after, Andrés falls asleep with his mouth open, head still firmly pillowed on top of Martín.</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. winter prompts: never seen snow before/huddling for warmth/hypothermia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i call this one 'aleks doesn't want me to spend time on my uni work'</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The problem with succumbing to Martín’s pleas to rent a cabin somewhere up a Swiss mountain, was not that the cabin didn’t have central heating – the fireplace in the main room warmed things well enough, and they didn’t really need heating in the bedroom. The problem was that Martín, who was thankfully never that interested in dragging Andrés outside, had never seen snow before and now wanted to spend most of his time outdoors.</p><p>Andrés had abandoned him about an hour ago, when he was stood at the edge of a frozen lake and insisted on jumping in every three-foot snowdrift in the vicinity like some sort of deranged snow-bunny. He’d been very comfortable sitting in front of the fire, reading the book Sergio had given him as an early Christmas gift – except now it was starting to get dark and Martín still wasn’t back.</p><p>There’s an odd noise from the porch outside and Andrés leaves his armchair to investigate. He pulls open the heavy door and blinks when he sees Martín, shivering from head to toe, standing on the wooden steps.</p><p>“Martín what – are you wet?” he asks.</p><p>Martín nods, sending icy droplets of water flying from his hat. “I fell in the lake,” he admits, through his chattering teeth.</p><p>Andrés briefly wonders if maybe he should have fallen for someone with more common sense before he grabs Martín by the front of his drenched winter jacket and drags him inside.</p><p>“I want a divorce,” he threatens as he starts to divest Martín of his hat and gloves.</p><p>Martín fumbles ineffectually with the zip of his jacket, fingers too numb to be of any use and Andrés bats his hands away.</p><p>“God, even your jumper is wet,” he says, aggressively tugging the damp wool up and over Martín’s head.</p><p>There’s a cascade of curses from inside the jumper and when Martín reappears, he’s scowling.</p><p>“You could be more gentle, I might yet die of hypothermia,” he complains.</p><p>Andrés pauses halfway through peeling Martín’s soaked jeans off his thighs. “Don’t you dare, you don’t get to leave this marriage that easily.”</p><p>He tugs Martín’s socks off his feet, making him stagger.</p><p>“I regret marrying you every day,” Martín declares, goosebumps racing across his pale skin.</p><p>“Pants off,” Andrés orders in reply.</p><p>Once Martín has been stripped of all his wet clothing, Andrés bundles him into a blanket and over to the rug in front of the fireplace.</p><p>“Stay there, I’ll get you some tea,” he says and leaves Martín huddled in front of the fire.</p><p>He makes the tea as quickly as he can and fills two hot water bottles with the left-over water. When he returns, Martín is sitting facing the fire with his knees pulled up to his chest, chin resting on top of them, his eyes closed.</p><p>Andrés shucks his own jumper and slacks and kneels on the rug in just his underwear and t-shirt.</p><p>“Here’s your tea, mi amor,” he says, handing the mug to Martín.</p><p>Martín wrinkles his nose at the herbal smell, but nonetheless drinks it in almost one go.</p><p>“That was disgusting,” he whines, giving the mug back to Andrés.</p><p>“Do you feel warmer?” Andrés asks.</p><p>Martín nods. “A bit, still cold though.”</p><p>Andrés wraps a blanket around himself and leans back against the armchair. He reaches for Martín and helps him shuffle backwards until he’s sat between his legs, leaning up against Andrés’ chest. He shoves one hot water bottle onto Martín’s lap and presses the other against Martín’s chest.</p><p>“Better?” he asks, tucking Martín’s head under his chin.</p><p>“Yeah,” Martín sighs. “Andrés, querido?”</p><p>“Martín?”</p><p>“Can we go somewhere with a beach next year?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. a fire, a soccer game, enemies to friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>from a prompt list with three random phrases, this is sergio masterminding andrés and martín's reconciliation</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>definitely not dedicated to the person i'm fake-married to</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you think they’re ever going to talk to each other?” Marseille asks, squinting over at the garden where Martín and Andrés are sitting on benches as far from each other as they can get, studiously ignoring each other.</p><p>Sergio sighs, rubbing his under his glasses. “I don’t know. Martín has a right to be upset, but Andrés is –“</p><p>“An asshole,” Bogotá chimes in.</p><p>“Stubborn,” Sergio says with a pinched look. “Is what I was going to say.”</p><p>“Well we need both of them for the heist,” Bogotá says.</p><p>Sergio gives him a pointed look. “I know.”</p><p>“So fix it, Professor,” Marseille says.</p><p>“I’ve already got a plan,” Sergio replies snippily. “Gather the gang. We’re playing football.”</p><p>-</p><p>“Professor,” Bogotá murmurs, shifting in his spot next to Sergio. “Are you sure making them captains of opposite teams is the way to go?”</p><p>Sergio narrows his eyes and nods. “Oh yes, I do. They need to talk and this will make them talk.”</p><p>He raises the whistle to his mouth and blows, letting out a sharp tone and the match begins.</p><p>Andrés, dressed in red immediately heads for the ball, but Martín – dressed in a contrasting green – has it out from under his feet and is passing it to Denver before he can blink.</p><p>“This isn’t going to end well,” Marseille mumbles before jogging after Martín.</p><p>-</p><p>“Should we separate them?” Tokyo asks, tone halfway between amused and concerned.</p><p>“Nah, I think we should leave them to it,” Denver sniggers. “This is the best prep-exercise we’ve ever done.”</p><p>Sergio groans. “This isn’t funny, Denver.”</p><p>There’s light laughter from beside him. “I mean, it kind of is,” Raquel says.</p><p>They all watch as Martín, who has been yelling almost incoherently in his incandescent rage for the last ten minutes, steps forward and jabs Andrés hard in the chest. Helsinki audibly sucks in a breath and they wait for Andrés to react. Surprisingly, he just smirks and says something that seems to shock Martín, as it stops the tirade of curse words pouring from his mouth.</p><p>“You arrogant son of a bitch,” Martín yells, suddenly regaining his voice. “You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me and I wish you’d died in the mint or better yet that we’d never met.”</p><p>Stockholm gasps, hands flying to her mouth and steps forward as if to go over to the two men. Sergio puts out a hand to stop her as all the colour drains from Andrés’ face. He turns on his heel and stalks towards the main monastery building.</p><p>Martín yells after him, making an incredibly crude hand gesture and then turns towards the gang, all of whom are still staring at him.</p><p>“Yeah, that went really well,” Bogotá snarks and Sergio scowls at him.</p><p>“Just wait,” he says, not entirely sure himself whether his confidence is warranted – but at least Martín and Andrés exchanged words, which was better than the icy silence they’d both been maintaining for the last month.</p><p>Martín storms towards them and snatches the cigarette Marseille was about to light from his hand. Marseille wordlessly hands him the lighter as Stockholm tries to start some mindless conversation to cover the air of awkwardness.</p><p>Keeping an eye on Martín, while he pretends to talk to Raquel, Sergio thinks he’s never seen a cigarette smoked that aggressively. That is until Martín spots Andrés coming back towards them and hollows his cheeks so much on the next inhale he briefly looks like the main character in a Tim Burton film.</p><p>“Nobody move,” Sergio tells the gang through gritted teeth as Andrés determinedly strides towards Martín.</p><p>Sergio does his best not to flinch when Andrés snatches the cigarette from Martín’s hand and throws it over his shoulder.</p><p>“I told you five years ago that smoking will kill you,” Andrés sneers.</p><p>“Shame it hasn’t,” Martín spits in return. “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with you now.”</p><p>It seems like the whole gang holds their breath as they wait for Andrés to react. His laughter startles them all and then he’s grabbing Martín by the front of his shirt and dragging him into a kiss that Sergio finds off-puttingly aggressive. Martín doesn’t seem to mind however, judging by how tightly his fingers are curled in the back of Andrés’ jersey.</p><p>“Umm, should we go?” Helsinki asks, when neither of the men show any sign of letting go of the other.</p><p>Andrés makes a noise that Sergio had honestly never wanted to hear from his brother and he nods frantically.</p><p>“Yes. Let’s leave. Right now,” Sergio orders.</p><p>“Uh, Professor?” Denver says questioningly. “Why is there so much smoke coming from behind them?”</p><p>Sergio peers around Martín and Andrés whilst doing his best not to look at them and sees the cigarette Andrés had carelessly thrown away has set the patch of grass it landed in alight.</p><p>“Bogotá, take care of that, will you? I’m sure the monks would appreciate it if we didn’t set fire to their garden,” Sergio says with a longsuffering sigh. “The rest of you…”</p><p>“We’ll go get some alcohol,” Nairobi declares.</p><p>“And some earplugs,” Tokyo says with a wicked grin.</p><p>Sergio groans and Raquel wraps her arm around his waist. “Come on, let’s go get you some wine.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. hand holding prompts: loosely holding onto each other's hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="answer">
  <p>“It’s too warm,” Denver complains, stretching out on the sand.</p>
  <p>“No one cares,” Tokyo says, taking a sip of her cocktail. “Go away if it’s too hot for you, I don’t want to listen to you complaining all day again.”</p>
  <p>Denver scowls, lowering his sunglasses so Tokyo gets the full effect. “I’m sorry that I was stung by a jellyfish yesterday, next time I’ll just keep it to myself.”</p>
  <p>“See that you do,” Andrés says, from his deck chair. “Though it’s an admittedly rare occurrence, Tokyo is right for once. No one wants to listen to your whining again Denver. And some of us are trying to sleep.”</p>
  <p>“You’re literally awake and talking right now,” Rio points out from Tokyo's other side.</p>
  <p>Andrés sighs and jerks his head to his right where Martín has passed out in his own deck chair. “Palermo is asleep and I’ll thank you to keep your voice low and not wake him.”</p>
  <p>He ignores Rio and Denver muttering, smiling smugly when the two young men get up and leave, wandering further down the beach.</p>
  <p>Beside him, Martín shifts, hand sliding into Andrés', gripping as loosely as possible without letting go to avoid the sweaty skin that is inevitable in this heat.</p>
  <p>“Thank you,” he says quietly, eyes still shut and Andrés squeezes his hand.</p>
  <p>“Of course, mi amor.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. hand holding prompts: squeezing hand for comfort and encouragement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The hostages gather in the library and Martín grins as he looks over at Andrés, handsome in his army uniform.</p><p>“Ready to show them how it’s done?” Andrés asks, nodding over at Stockholm and Denver.</p><p>“Of course,” Martín says. “The mint was nothing. This is the greatest heist the world has ever seen.”</p><p>Andrés reaches out and squeezes Martín’s hand, just briefly, before letting go so Martín can step forward.</p><p>“Ladies and gentleman, my name is Palermo. I have two pieces of news for you, one good and one bad. The bad news is, the Bank of Spain is under attack. The good news… is that we are the attackers.”</p>
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<a name="section0026"><h2>26. hand holding prompts: possessive hand holding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you hens clucking about?” Denver demands, speech already slightly slurred as he drops onto the chair next to Stockholm.</p><p>Tokyo, still laughing as she leans into Nairobi, points over at the bar where Berlin and Palermo are getting the next round of drinks. Palermo is leaning on the bar chatting amiably - and maybe a touch suggestively - with the bartender, a handsome man in his early thirties.</p><p>Berlin is stood beside him, arms crossed, looking like someone just pissed in his shoes.</p><p>“He’s been glaring like that for five minutes and Palermo hasn‘t noticed,” Nairobi giggles.</p><p>The bartender sets a tray with various drinks on the countertop of the bar in front of Berlin without looking away from Palermo, a too wide smile on his lips. Berlin, looking ready to commit murder, grabs the tray and stalks over to the table.</p><p>“Didn’t you forget something?” Stockholm asks faux-innocently when he slams the tray onto the table in front of her.</p><p>Berlin looks over his shoulder, sees Palermo still laughing with the bartender, and makes a noise that Denver would swear the next day is a growl. He storms back over to the bar, grabs Palermo's hand, and drags him back to the table with him.</p><p>The others watch with wide eyes as Berlin sits down, then pulls Palermo down to sit in his lap. Palermo looks entirely unsurprised and in fact sort of smug, wrapping one arm around Berlin’s neck, keeping their hands linked together.</p><p>“Next time just tattoo ‘property of Berlin’ on his forehead,” Tokyo mutters.</p>
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<a name="section0027"><h2>27. hand holding prompts: playing with each other’s fingers & raising the other’s hand to their lips to kiss it softly</h2></a>
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    <p>The classroom set up is boring. Personally, Martín doesn’t think he needs to be here. It’s his plan, he knows how it works. Sergio doesn’t even need him to explain anything to his gang of clowns, but apparently, Martín still needs to show face and sit his ass flat every day.</p><p>He sighs, leaning back in his chair and exchanging a bored eye-roll with Andrés who is sat beside him. Andrés puts a placating hand on Martín’s knee and turns back to the front where Sergio is explaining something about response times in his monotone, droning voice.</p><p>Martín lifts andrés hand, idly running his thumbs over Andrés’ knuckles. Andrés doesn’t even look over at him, content to keep his hand lax. Martín starts individually curling each of Andrés’ fingers, then straightening them out again, before flipping Andrés’ hand to carefully trace the lines on his palm. Andrés twitches his hand reflexively at the tickling sensation, but otherwise remains ostensibly focussed on Sergio upfront.</p><p>After tracing the entire alphabet and then the first twenty-five digits of pi into Andrés’ hand, Martín eventually gives up and threads their fingers together, gripping Andrés’ hand tightly.</p><p>Andrés raises their joined hands and presses a kiss to the back of Martín’s, making him turn and look at Andrés who just winks at him. Shaking his head, Martín does his best not to look too fond and finally turns his attention to Sergio who is now talking about bugging the police.</p>
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<a name="section0028"><h2>28. hand holding prompts: grabbing the other’s hand to pull them back to them</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Naturally we’ll have the wedding here,” Andrés announces, looking around the monastery. “If that’s alright with my darling wife-to-be?”</p><p>Tatiana, brand new ring shining on her finger, smiles beatifically. “Of course, mi amor. It’s so beautiful here.”</p><p>Andrés grins and leans in to kiss her. Martín ignores how Sergio is looking at him and instead gets to his feet. He swallows the rising bile in his throat and lifts his glass.</p><p>“To the happy couple,” he toasts and Sergio follows suit, Andrés and Tatiana raising their glasses in thanks.</p><p>He manages to stick it out for the rest of dinner, downing more wine than he probably should with so little food, then pushes himself away from the table. He stands, swaying a little, before nodding to the others.</p><p>“I’m off, I’ll see you tomorrow… maybe.”</p><p>He doesn’t wait for a response, leaving the kitchen and escaping into the dimly lit hallway. He’s almost halfway to his room when he hears footsteps and then a hand is grasping his, stopping him in his tracks. He’s twisted and pulled, turning to find himself face to face with Andrés.</p><p>“Where are you going?” he demands. “Why did you say maybe?”</p><p>Martín shrugs, trying to ignore how warm Andrés’ skin feels against his. “I’ve been meaning to go back to Madrid for a while… maybe Barcelona. You know I don’t like to stay in one place.”</p><p>“Martín,” Andrés says, voice too sincere, too understanding for Martín’s liking. “You don’t have to go.”</p><p>A sad smile twitches at the corner of Martín’s lips. “I think we both know that I do.”</p><p>He tugs his hand out of Andrés’ and starts walking away again.</p><p>“Martín,” Andrés calls after him. “You’ll come back won’t you?”</p><p>Martín stops, hesitates for a moment, then nods without turning around. “Of course,” he says. “I always do.”</p>
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<a name="section0029"><h2>29. hand holding prompts: only realising it when they have to let go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="answer">
  <p>Sergio has only seen Andrés this drunk three or four times in his life, but every single one of those times was because of Martín. This time is no different.</p>
  <p>Sergio sways a little under his brother’s weight and exchanges a commiserating glance with Marseille who is on the far side of Andrés, holding up Martín.</p>
  <p>“Sergio hurry,” Andrés slurs, bossy even when he can’t stand for himself. “it’s bedtime, I need to go to bed.”</p>
  <p>“He needs his beauty sleep,” Martín crows gleefully from beside Andrés and then descends into giggles when he sees Andrés’ indignant face.</p>
  <p>Even Marseille sniggers a little and Sergio sighs.</p>
  <p>“Come on Andrés, I’ll put you to bed,” he says. “Let’s go.”</p>
  <p>“Okay,” andrés says, then frowns when he doesn’t move. “Wait, I’m stuck, I can’t.”</p>
  <p>Sergio pinches the bridge of his nose and regrets ever coming to stay at the monastery. “Let go of Martín’s hand and then you’ll be able to move.”</p>
  <p>“Oh,” Andrés says, letting go of the death grip he has on Martín’s hand.</p>
  <p>Martín pouts and curls away from them and towards Marseille.</p>
  <p>“Good night, Martín,” Andrés calls, waving grandiosely and nearly smacking Sergio in the face.</p>
  <p>Martín doesn’t reply, trailing after Marseille with a dejected slant to his shoulders.</p>
  <p>“You know,” Andrés says sleepily when Sergio finally manages to get him into his bed. “I don’t think I should have let go.”</p>
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<a name="section0030"><h2>30. hand holding prompts: brushing against each other, linking fingers together for a second</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wearing the jumpsuit under his army uniform is uncomfortable. They’re lucky it’s so cold and have to zip everything all the way up because Martín is certain even the briefest glimpse of the tell-tale red would result in their deaths or imprisonment. He shifts, looking over at Andrés who is sitting next to him in the truck, face impassive even though Martín knows he’s just as nervous as the rest of them.</p><p>His radio buzzes with the go order and they jump out, Stockholm and Tokyo just behind them. He strides forward purposefully, trying to become the soldier he’s pretending to be just for a moment.</p><p>“Ready?” Andrés asks him, voice serious.</p><p>Martín nods, keeping his eyes on the bank straight ahead of them. “Ready.”</p><p>As they walk, Andrés sways towards him, their shoulders bumping, the backs of their hands brushing. For a split second, Andrés tangles their fingers together and Martín soaks in the feeling of Andrés’ skin against his before they separate again, the air between them colder than it seemed only moments ago.</p>
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<a name="section0031"><h2>31. hand holding prompts: not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The marketplace is packed and Andrés loses sight of the gang almost immediately. Nairobi and Tokyo were just ahead of them, but they’ve vanished between the brightly coloured swathes of fabric that are hanging from almost every stall near them.</p><p>“Where do you want to go first?” Martín asks, standing on his tip-toes to look above the sea of people surrounding them. He nearly overbalances and braces himself on Andrés’ shoulder as he continues to search for their afternoon’s entertainment.</p><p>“Rugs then jewelry then perfume?” Andrés asks and Martín nods.</p><p>They squeeze through the throng of people and start moving towards the carpet stalls. Again and again, they’re nearly separated by the constant flow of the crowd until Martín grabs ahold of Andrés and just doesn’t let go. It’s effective, Andrés will give him that, and by the time they’re trailing back to the cars with their purchases, he’s forgotten all about it.</p><p>“Why are you and Palermo holding hands?” Tokyo asks, the frown on her face visible even behind her sunglasses.</p><p>“Didn’t want to get separated,” Andrés says coolly.</p><p>Nairobi’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “We’re out of the market, why are you still holding hands?”</p><p>Martín scowls and tightens his grip on Andrés’ hand. “Mind your own business,” he says snippily.</p><p>“I give up,” Nairobi sighs. “you two are unbelievable.”</p>
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<a name="section0032"><h2>32. hand holding prompts: bandaging the other's hand and not quite letting go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re an idiot,” Andrés chastises, pulling Martín out of the bar and over to his car where Sergio is waiting for them, looking over his shoulder anxiously.</p><p>“We need to go,” he says, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine the minute Andrés and Martín approach him. “If anyone called the police we’re screwed.”</p><p>Martín rolls his eyes, allowing Andrés to manhandle him into the backseat. “It’ll be fine, Sergio. it’s a bar fight, not a shootout.”</p><p>“You could have just ignored him,” Sergio insists.</p><p>“I couldn’t,” Martín scowls angrily, leaning forward between the front seats, only for Andrés to pull him back.</p><p>“Sit,” Andrés orders. “and put on your fucking seatbelt.”</p><p>Martín reluctantly does as he’s told, buckling himself in while Andrés digs in the seat pocket in front of him, eventually pulling out a miniature first aid kit.</p><p>“Hands.”</p><p>Martín holds his hands out for Andrés to inspect in the dim light of the streetlamps that shine in through the car windows as they drive through the city.</p><p>“You split your knuckles again,” Andrés tuts, spraying the cuts with antiseptic. “Stop punching people in the mouth, teeth are sharp.”</p><p>“I’ll stop punching people in the mouth when they use their mouths to say things that aren’t fucking stupid,” Martín grumbles as Andrés presses gauze to the now clean wounds and starts winding a bandage around Martín’s hand.</p><p>“So quick to anger, mi amor,” Andrés says lightly. “Now look at you.”</p><p>Sergio makes a disapproving noise from the front seat, but Martín ignores him, lost in the sensation of Andrés gently maneuvering his hand to wrap the bandage around it. Andrés ties the bandage off, fingers wrapping around Martín’s wrist and Martín tracks their movement, as they send goosebumps racing up his arm.</p><p>Andrés puts the first aid kit back in the seat pocket but doesn’t turn away from Martín, keeping their hands connected as they continue to drive into the night.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hope you liked these, if you want to send me a prompt feel free to shout at me on  tumblr (<a href="https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com">@hefellfordean</a>) or twitter (<a href="https://twitter.com/angstypalermo">@angstypalermo</a>)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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